Warm
by tendernesss
Summary: A Brittana Summer.
1. Prelude: New Moon

I decided I needed a break from the angst of Howl and of the actual show. I seriously wanted to punch someone in the face over the way they ended things...But, I'm kind of over it now and I'm putting my faith in the powers that be. To state the obvious this is a new story. It's based pretty much where the finale left off and the summer that takes place. Everything is canon, hopefully I write the characters in the correct voices. It's meant to be a fluff piece filled with lots of sex and cute coupley moments.

If you're following Howl, I should have a new chapter up in the next couple of days. So no worries, I haven't shelved that story.

As always reviews and alerts are appreciated.

Also, it should be said that although this chapter is in second person point of view not all of the chapters will be. I'm going to write it the way I feel each chapter should be written. Also, as always my stories are always based on Brittana, but are Santana centric at heart.

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><p>Brittany's always had a thing for the summer. Admittedly, you have too. If you can get past the humidity and the ever present searing sun and focus only on the fact that Brittany barely wears any clothing during the two months of vacation you get it, you understand why everyone loves it so much.<p>

It's been two weeks since school ended. Weeks spent with Brittany doing all of the things you use to before everything got so complicated. Before you fucked up and let your feelings pour out like some kind of non stop word vomit.

There's shopping, courtesy of your father. There's movie nights and pancake mornings, shared bubble baths and long car rides to nowhere.

Oh, and sex.

So much sex. So many places. Brittany even made the mistake of calling it "love making" earlier today and you forgot to bat an eye. Everything is different now. Which is scary. And exciting. Sometimes it's going so well that you want to give in to the familiar itch at the back of your brain and run into the waiting arms of Karofsky or Puckerman or some boy who'll make you normal again.

Whatever _that_ means.

But you don't. You stay. You stay and you let her wrap her arms around you at night. Let her wake you up with two well placed fingers and a hot tongue pressed into your neck in the mornings.

And you call. Not only when she asks you too, but when you want. The only itch you've been giving into this summer is the one that says _do right by her_.

You're trying. You're making an effort.

It's the least you can do for what you put her through this past year.

No one knows about you yet. If they do (and you imagine a couple do) they haven't said anything. Which you're grateful for. You want to tell them.

Alright, that's a lie.

You want to tell _some_ of them. Weezy for example. Maybe even Tina. And Quinn. If only to rub it into her face that you've found the kind of love she is literally breaking in two for.

But, you're not ready. (They understand.)

You know they do because last Thursday when Kurt and Mercedes walked into Brittany's room and found you pressed against her computer desk her teeth pulling at the skin of your neck in such a brutally delicious way that you were mid moan they pretended to not see anything.

You expected to be filled with that same old terror. To immediately begin hatching a plan to explain the situation. To make it less than it was. But, you surprised yourself when you had to bite back a full on laugh.

Which made Brittany laugh and release the death grip she had on your hand.

She expected you to run too.

And right now? You're in your bedroom getting ready for dinner at BreadstiX with Brittany. It's the fifth "date" this week and it's only Wednesday. You put on a tight blue dress and eyeliner. You curl the hair that hangs past your shoulders. You check your wallet twice because even though she'll fight you for the check you're hell bent on paying.

And when you're done primping and prodding you take one last look in the mirror and you smile. Which is another thing you've been doing a lot this past couple weeks.

Your phone vibrates. It's a text from Brittany stating that she's "_as hungry as a velociraptor. i'm gonna chew one of my fingers off if you don't get here soon. and san? no fingers means no desert for you_."

You grin and snap your phone shut. You take another look at yourself, make sure you're perfect for her. You grab your keys as you shoot out the front door, a hurried goodbye tossed over your shoulders to your parents.

The hot breeze of the summer night hits you and makes your insides all warm.

You could get use to this.


	2. Human Touch

So much love for this story! Your reviews and favorites and alerts have inspired me to bang out a chapter sooner than I expected. Thank you!

Let me know what you think of this chapter and or what you would like to see (read). Maybe the powers that be will happen across it and straighten out their shit.

As a disclaimer: I own nothing.

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><p>"<em>Tom Chaney killed my father and I intend to go after him<em>."

Brittany quoted the movie(southern accent included) playing on the flat screen as she wrapped her arms around your torso, her eyes glittering even in the darkness of the room.

You laugh in confusion, "How many times have you watched this movie?"

She shrugs her shoulders and murmurs something that sounds like seven or eight times into the fabric of the low cut purple shirt. The one she loves so much because it clings to you and hangs off of you in just the right places. Your eyes slide over to the bedroom door to make sure it's locked. Lola, Brittany's mom, was almost privy to an eye full yesterday morning. It won't happen again.

She kisses down your neck, little hums emitting from her throat. She loves this more than you do. And even as you start to protest, "Brittany they're going to be here any minute..." Your legs begin to part so her body can fit against you.

She bunches up your shirt and suckles at the thin skin covering your hip bones. You cant your body up to let her know that you're ready. Her fingers begin to fiddle with the buckle of your jeans. You make a note to yourself, no matter how hot your ass looks in denim, it's dresses and skirts from here on out. Too much time wasted getting you out of these things.

She pulls your pants down, just below your butt and kisses the soaked fabric of your panties. You hiss, bite back a moan. It's only six o'clock in the evening. Lola and Jim, Brittany's parents and her younger brothers are still awake. Oblivious to the fact that they're pride and joy is using her mouth to render you useless.

"Santana?" The tip of her tongue licks under your panties. Remember not to cry out too loudly.

Your voice comes out in a forced, raspy groan, "Huh?"

Her fingers pull at your underwear, works them down only enough to expose the important places of you. The part of you that's already drenched with fluids and hot heat. Your breathing's become haggard. Like you've been running a mile. She flattens her tongue against your mound and laps up to your clit where she sucks, hard. You can't help the moan that escapes your lips. But, Brittany doesn't seem to care. Her tongue darts in between your folds and her index finger begins to rub circles around the bundle of sensitive nerves.

You push yourself against her face. She holds you down with a strong hand. Your moans escalate from childlike to primal. You slap a palm over your mouth to keep them inside of you to the very best of your ability.

Brittany finally finishes her sentence, "I got something for us." The words vibrate against your sex. You can't imagine what else you guys need. But, before you have the chance to ask you here_ It_-

"Are those African fertility statues? When my dad's were searching for a donor they had tons of them around the house and they would rub them every day."

Rachel's voice floats up the stairs and slaps you right in the face.

And then Quinn's, icy and even. "I think those things only work if you have the correct anatomy, Rachel."

"Of course it worked. I'm here now!"

"Which would explain the many, _many_ things that have gone wrong with your disproportionate body and self-centered mind."

A chuckle floats up. It's Mercedes, "Mrs. Pierce are Brittany and Santana upstairs?"

You don't here the response, but moments later shoes begin to stomp up the stairs.

You groan, "Brittany, off."

"What?" She lifts her head up, eyes the kind of dark blue they get when she's turned on. A color reserved for you.

"They're here." You pull your panties and jeans up together, waste no time with buttoning up.

Brittany's looking at you confused, "Aliens?"

"What? No. The Glee Freaks."

You wipe her mouth for her, she nips at the palm of your hand and warns, "You mean our _friends_, Santana."

"That's what I said." You reply as you shrug your shoulders.

You rest against the headboard as a knock rings out at the door.

"Abandon all hope ye who enter here." You call out in a sing-song voice and the door swings open. Your little quip is lost on everyone except Quinn who gives you an approving nod, "Dante's Inferno. Nice."

The blond is followed by Rachel grinning like she's just won a prize for being the world's tallest midget, lugging a tote bag full of movies. And Mercedes who's hair, even in this humidity is immaculate. So, is Kurt's you muse as he latches his arm around Mercedes and tosses a wink in your direction.

Brittany looks past the group as they pile inside, "Where's Tina?"

Mercedes shook her head, "I called her earlier to see if she was still coming, but Mike leaves for Chicago to visit his grandparents so she spending it with him."

"You mean she's spending it doing it with him. Ha!" You let yourself laugh at your own tacky joke. Brittany grins and wraps her arms around your waist as she snuggles into your side.

Quinn catches your eyes. Amusement shining in a green ocean. You ignore her, look past her bob of blond hair to Rachel as she takes out True Grit(a look of disgust plastered across her face) and shoves in one of her movies.

"Hold up, Berry. What the hell did you just put into Britts dvd player because I'm not about to spend my night watching midgets prance around in fields...Wait. Do your cousins record they're outings?"

"Amusing, Santana. Maybe I'll laugh about it tomorrow."

You grin. Rachel's getting good at side stepping all the shit you give her. _Finally_. If you are going to be proper friends with this albatrosse she's going to have to learn to take a fucking joke.

Rachel continues, "I"ve packed all the classics. Streisand, Liza and Cher."

Kurt practically comes in his pants as his eyes shine, "Magnificent! I brought facial creme!"

He reaches into his overnight bag and pulls out a canister a light green goo.

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><p>You volunteer to order pizza. Three boxes of greasy pepperoni and cheese. They're finished off in no time. After a quick argument with Rachel.<p>

"...I will not watch any movies containing orphans."

"I want to cry tonight, Santana! I wore the runny mascara..."

"...I will not be witness to a crying dwarf..."

"...The photos I take for my website will be great in this light."

"I will punch you in the face if I see homeless kids..."

"Brittany, tell her that Little Orphan Annie is a classic."

Brittany turns her head up to you, and repeats, "Little orphan Annie is a classic."

You sign heavily, "Don't make me do this, Britts."

She's merciful, "Hobo Annie is a no-go Rachel. Do you have anything with cats?"

A stifled moan emits from Kurt who can't move his face due to all the facial creme, "No cats!"

So much gay in this room tonight you muse inwardly to yourself.

"Funny Girl it is." Rachel gives in.

Faces are wiped clean and everyone changes into soft pajamas. You skillfully maneuver yourself out of the empty hallway when Quinn tries to corner you. She wants details, no doubt. But, you're not ready to share them yet.

They'll have to tide themselves over with rumors they've no doubt created for themselves. You've heard some of them. They've all been accurate.

The lights are shut off and Rachel hit's PLAY on the remote.

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><p>"<em>...Oh life is juicy, juicy and you see I gotta have my bite, sir...<em>"

They're all screaming the lyrics of the seminal song from the Streisand classic. Rachel's leading the chorus, veins straining against the skin of her neck. Her hands stretched out grandly in front of her from where she sits on her knees on the floor. Quinn's gripping her fingers, singing along. Mercedes and Kurt hit high notes that only dogs can hear.

But, you're quiet. So is Brittany.

You're both too intent on pretending like your watching the movie that you don't notice they're all singing along. You're eyes are locked on the screen, glowing and overflowing with secrecy.

Under the soft blanket you've wrapped yourselves up in, your fingers have been rubbing tiny circles against her clit for the past ten minutes. Her leg keeps spasming. So you discreetly drape your calf over hers to keep her still. Your hand slides over her clit, through fluids and your arm extends slightly to let your index finger slip inside of her. It does, easily. Her muscles contract and you slide in another digit.

Her chest heaves, twice. You still your movements so she can calm down. You're not so sure what will happen if one of them look over and question the two of you, but you don't want to find out. She slides her hand over yours and she pushes in. You squeeze your eyes shut. You would give anything to have everyone in the room gone when you opened them again. Tonight's been fun. You'll even admit that to someone if they asked. But, you're ready to be alone with Brittany now.

The pace you set is slow and deliberate. You alternate rubbing her clit with pushing your two fingers inside of her as deep as they will go in the position your both in. Brittany's other leg has started to shake slightly. There's nothing you can do about it without drawing attention.

The muscles around your fingers are tightening to such a point that you have to make an effort each time you thrust inside of her. A rose colored flush has creeped up her neck and colored her cheeks. She's close. You lean over, hoping that the cloak of darkness will be enough to conceal you as you bite down on her shoulders. She pushes back against the headboard of the bed as she silently comes, biting down on her lip. Her chest heaving. Your fingers trapped inside of her as you steadily thumb her clit.

With a lengthy breath she parts her legs and you pull your fingers out wiping them on the sheets. She leans over to you, all delirious and spent. Eyes the color blue you willingly let yourself drown in. She wants to return the favor, but you stop her. Tell her they can go for round two in the shower later. She agrees as she cuddles back into your side, draping her legs over you. You kiss her forehead, let your lips linger on the tiny film of sweat that has built.

She begins to hum along to Streisand. You look around the room to make sure your friends (_yeah, friends_) are still immersed in the television. And they are.

Except a pair of green eyes.

Quinn's looking at you. She giving you her "mom" smile. The one she gave out a lot when she was pregnant with Beth. Everything she needed to ask you earlier that day in the hallway has been answered. You lock eyes with her.

She knows.


	3. Awakening

Another chapter gays! I mean, guys. Reviews and story alerts are like crack to me! So keep them coming. This story is so much fun. Which seems to be getting in the way of Howl. :( Sorry.

Just a note: Quinntana is one of my favorite friendships. I've never shipped them romantically(imho Quinn is a straighty mcstraight straight) but I love their friendship. So many nuances and strange parallels to be discovered. Sometimes I seriously get angry because I'm no so sure that our Glee guys know what kind of character jackpot they've stumbled upon. I don't think that in the year they have left they'll be able to explore all the possible avenues and that goes for every character not just The Unholy Trinity.

But, I digress.

Let me know what you think!

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><p>Quinn's been calling you "Sneaky Fingers" for the past three nights. You don't get it. If you had been all that sneaky, she wouldn't be waving it in front of your face that she witnessed you diddling Brittany's skittle in the middle of a room. <em>Thinks she witnessed anyway. <em>

You haven't confirmed or denied anything. But, it doesn't matter much to her. She's too far gone into believing that she caught you that even if it wasn't the truth, she'd still call you a liar.

Originally, your plan was to be overly cute with Brittany in front of Quinn. To hold stares a little longer. To let your fingers linger on her skin for a beat more than appropriate. To parade it in front of her that you were _in love _and the person that your heart chose to give itself to wanted nothing more than to be with you. _Only you_. You don't know if it's the bitter monster that had the time to build inside of you during Junior year, but you wanted to watch Quinn squirm. Maybe for a bit of payback? You're not sure. But you know you wanted to see green eyes bleed jealousy.

But, you can't. And you won't. If anything you've tried to cool it down when she's around. (Which is a lot easier said than done.)

Quinn's been cool about it all. Whatever she thinks _it_ is. She's been way cooler than you ever expected. You catch her looking at you without an ounce of her usual acrimony. Sometimes when Brittany leaves the room, Quinn will squeeze your hand or she'll toss a smile in your direction. It took you awhile to realize what she meant by all this, but now you know. _Quinn Fabray is happy for you. _

**Sunday Morning. **

Light has barely broken the morning sky, but still you begin to stir. It takes a moment for you to become aware of your surroundings. The gentle throb between your legs brings last night rushing back to you, full speed. Your parents took a night trip to Dayton (ew) and you wasted no time summoning Brittany. You met her at the door and she leaped on you with such a force that you were sent crashing into the wall. Clothes were ripped off with haste. Skin and heat and _need_. You lost yourself inside of her again, last night. You can't count how many times you've done that this summer. She's asleep next to you, her naked body clinging to yours. Her head nestled in the crook of your neck, warm breath hitting your sensitive skin.

You kiss her hand and slide out of the bed. She wakes as soon as she doesn't feel your body next to hers, "San?" Her voice is dry and hoarse. Last night you made her scream.

Leaning over her, you place a kiss to her forehead,"Back to sleep, baby."

"Something wrong?" She's got that look in her eyes. The one she had before the summer started. The one that says, _Santana please stay_.

You promise her that you're just going downstairs to get a drink of water and that you'll be back up in a minute. This seems to tide her over because the petrified blue in her eyes goes calm and she rolls back over. You're still for a moment until you hear the rhythm in her breathing stabilize and stretch as she falls back to sleep.

You grab your phone as you head downstairs forgoing grabbing a robe as your naked body disrupts the cool, still air of the hallway and goosebumps raise against your skin. Sitting down on the couch, you check the clock. It's 6:34 AM. Opening your phone you tap out a quick message, **Hey Jesus Freak, you conscious? **

You get a reply instantly, **Of course. Mass begins at seven**.

A rapid fire text conversation blooms between you and Quinn. You spend the first five minutes insulting her, reading her(sub-par) insults to you and rolling your eyes. You make it known that she is in a cult. She makes it known that you need Jesus. But, now you're stalling. She's going to have to turn off her cellphone soon, but you need to ask this. You need to get this out for Brittany. You calm the slight shake in your hand as you type out,

**You've been hanging out with Puck a lot lately?**

_**So? **_

You don't get to answer because she shoots back-

**I didn't think you would care. Not that I care if you care. But, I thought you were..._you know_. **

**I don't! Puckerman is so last year. **_**Gross**_**. **

**Thanks, Santana**.

You cringe, oops.

**Last year for me. This summer for you. Fresh meat. Sorta.**

**Was there a point to your question?**

Your heart is a bass drum inside of your chest. You're naked, but there's a thin film of sweat across your forehead. It's now or never. Brittany's not going to want to stay hidden forever.

**Britt and I are going to Breadstix later today. Do you guys want to come?**

She'd been shooting back an instant response up until now. You check the clock. Seconds, seconds, more seconds. No reply. Did you misinterpret her actions before? Did she not know about you and Brittany at all? Was the affection you thought you saw in her eyes just a trick of the summer sun?

Did you just out yourself to a gigantic Christ crusader and ask her to double date it up with you, your girlfriend and the resident sex shark?

Your phone vibrates, but you don't want to look at the text. You gulp as a wave of nausea washes over you. Your phone vibrates again and the knot in your stomach tightens. Her rant didn't fit in one text message so she sent two.

Shaking your head, you steel yourself as you clench your eyes and flip the phone. You inhale sharply and your eyes flutter open as you click on the first reply from Quinn. Relief washes over your body and you let out a chuckle as the word, **Yes.** illuminates off your screen. You open the second one and read,

**You'll be keeping your hands above the table at all times, _Sneaky Fingers_. **

You let out a laugh as you snap your phone shut.

"What's so funny?"

You turn to find Brittany tying your robe around her body as she descends the stairs.

"Quinn."

Brittany scans the living room, her eyes curious, "Do you see her now?"

"I was texting her, Britt." She stands in front of you, her legs brushing against your own. You pull her down on top of you so that she straddles your thighs. Your hands rest against the small of her back and you bury your face into her chest breathing in her warmth. You could stay there forever.

You want to stay there forever.

"You got out of bed to text Quinn?" She's playing with your hair, trying to keep the question casual but you can practically feel her pouting.

Your grip tightens around her and you shake your head, "Well, yeah. But, only to ask her if she wanted to go to Breadstix tonight."

Brittany freezes in your arms and her fingers drop the strands of hair she'd been holding. She pulls back, forcing you to look her in the eye. "But, I thought that we were going to Breadstix tonight?"

Panic in blue again. She feels like she's loosing you again. You know the reason her emotions are on such a hair trigger is because of you.

Which just makes you feel like shit again.

Forcefully you shake your head, trying to make it right, "No, Britt-"

"So we're not going to Breadstix?" Her voice crackles. She can't believe that you're going back on your word this quickly.

"No, Britt-"

"But, last Sunday you said that every Sunday we would go to Breadstix. You said it would be our thing."

The gears are turning inside of her brain, trying to shove the pieces of this early morning disaster together. To make everything make sense again. Like it did last night when she pretended to be asleep so you wouldn't stop whispering in her ear the way you do when you want to make sure she hears your voice even in her dreams.

"I know I said that Britt-"

"Santana, this doesn't make my heart happy."

She pushes off of you. You reach for her, but with a grace that you still can't emulate she's out of your reach and on the other side of the coffee table. Her arms cross in front of her. A defensive position she picked up from you years ago.

You inhale deeply. Let the words that have been buzzing through your mind fall to the ground so you can pick them up one by one and make a coherent sentence. You wonder how long Brittany's going to be like this. So afraid of losing you that she jumps to the worse conclusion before letting you explain. You won't ask her about it because you know it's your fault.

"Brittany..." You being slowly and raise your hand as she opens her mouth. You need her quiet. You get the most important part of the misunderstanding out of the way first, "You and I are going to Breadstix every Sunday from here on out. We will picket outside of Breadstix the day that, _God forbid_, they shut down. Okay?"

Her arms drop to her sides. Her guards down again and she's confused, "But you said-"

"I asked Quinn if she and Puck wanted to go with us." You say quietly.

She's processing the information without cutting in so you push on, "Remember last night? You said you wanted to go on double dates like your parents do with their friends?"

Brittany nods her head, "Yes."

You shrug your shoulders and give her your best smile, "Well, we are going on a date with Lucy Caboosey and the Sex Shark."

She's your Brittany again as her eyes blaze with happiness and she plunges back on to your lap, crushing her lips to yours. She pulls back as a realization hits her, "You told Quinn it was a double date?"

You smile proudly, "Yes."

Brittany wants more though, "She knows that it's you and I on a date and her and Puck on a date and that you won't be sleeping with Puck, right?"

You place a chaste kiss to her neck, "Yes."

Brittany holds your head between her hands and forces you to look her in the eyes. You've only seen her this serious once before and that was in the hallway when she made you your Lebanese shirt and told you off for not loving yourself as much as she does. She needs to know, "You told Quinn?"

She doesn't say anymore. You know what she means. She wants to know if you finally took a plunge and let people know that you aren't ashamed of her. You nod your affirmation.

"I told Quinn."

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><p>Puckerman's a mess. Like a real live fucking mess. His Mohawk is half grown in and it smells like he hasn't bathed in a good week. Brittany keeps throwing little pieces of bread at him. They hit him in the face and roll down his shirt.<p>

Quinn's doing her best to not rip him to shreds. He strolled in thirty minutes late, harassed a waitress and threatened to kick the shit out of a bus boy who couldn't have weighed more than 110 pounds.

Lauren dumped him at the beginning of the summer to rekindle a torrid affair that she started up with one of her wrestling teammates at the beginning of the year. First he tried booze, then he tried some of Sandy's medical marijuana and then he tried Quinn. But, because she hasn't given it up since the last time she gave it up he's pretty much gone insane.

"I was the man-" He's been droning on for awhile now. Reliving the glory days when he could "Stroll down the hall and get any chick I wanted. The Puckasaraus Rex had it all. I even got the most anal girl at our school pregnant!"

"Hey!" Quinn looks pissed, but she doesn't protest further. It's not like it's untrue.

He takes a long gulp of his coke, liquid dribbles down his chin,"I even made out with the second most anal girl at our school and Rachel barely gave it away to the guy she was in love with-"

"That's disgusting, Puck." Brittany deadpans. "Rachel's like fifty isn't, she?"

"Can we not talk about Finn?" asks Quinn.

"But, now..." Puck hasn't heard either of them. He's too lost in his own self serving sympathy to be distracted, "I'm getting dumped by geeks like Lauren Zizes..."

"That geek sure has you by the balls, Noah" grins Quinn.

"...And turning chicks _gay_!"

You freeze. Quinn's eyes dart toward you. Brittany rationalizes the situation in only a way Brittany can, "Puck you can't turn someone gay...And anyway if you could, I think that it would be me who could take credit for that."

"And Britney Spears." Laughs Quinn trying to diffuse the tension that everyone at the table excluding Puck can feel.

Brittany turns her attention to Quinn, "That's what I said."

You snap to, remember that the gay thing is kind of apparent and you kick Puck sharply under the table. "Get over it, Puckerman. You can do better. And if you can't do better, then hold on to the fact that it doesn't get much worse."

Puckerman's got tunnel vision though and he leans against the table, his hands clasping around yours. "Was I not good?"

"What?"

"Unhand my girlfriend, Puck." Brittany turns to Quinn and grins, "I can call her my girlfriend now!"

Quinn laughs that glamorously full Fabray laugh. The genuine one she reserves for a select handful of people, "I know!"

"Did the Puckster not rock your world all those times in the sack? Is that why you're muff diving on this hottie?"

Brittany's toothy grin spreads even wider, "I am so hot."

You're incredibly uncomfortable so you throw him a bone, "You were..._Okay_."

"Okay, meaning...?"

You huff as you roll your eyes. You don't have time for his cry baby antics. This is you and Britts first proper double date and he is pissing on it, "Okay meaning mediocre. Sub-par. Nothing to write home about. Got it?" You shift your body toward Brittany, "Britts if I get the pasta and you get the chicken we can split."

Puck releases his grip on your hands, "What do you know? You're gay. I'm the man."

You know you should just drop it, but Puck's got a way of bringing the teenager out of you, so you bite, "Yeah a homeless man. You look like a homeless man-

"You smell like one too." Adds Quinn.

"And for the record, I know an orgasm when I feel one. The package you boast about, so proudly, never did the trick."

That shuts him up and he buries his face into the menu. Quinn tosses a wink in your direction and the night presses on, pitifully so.

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><p>You eat your food, complain about it, and then eat some more. Brittany keeps leaning over and pressing quick kisses to your cheek, an amazed twinkle in her eyes every time she pulls back. She thinks she's getting away with something. Quinn spends the evening laughing with you and Brittany about the misfortune of others (namely Rachel Berry) and tossing pathetic glances a Puck who at one point has his face buried completely in his pasta plate moaning about Lauren's ass.<p>

The last straw is when he starts to sob. Like full on belly shaking sobs. White pasta sauce on his face mingling in with his tears and he whining about it burning his eyes. You toss your napkin onto the table as you stand wrenching him out of the booth.

"What are you doing?" His voice has gone up a decibel. You make a note to give him as much shit as possible about it on a night that isn't tonight.

You shove a twenty into his fist, "Catch a cab. Get home. Take a shower. Get her back before she dies off like her prehistoric predecessors or get over it. I don't care. Just get out of the Stix, you are bumming us all the fuck out."

Brittany hurls another piece of bread at him, gives him a right glare.

He looks to Quinn for support but she rolls her eyes, "I cannot believe I let you father my bastard child."

He wipes at his nose and heads for the door, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Brittany turns to you, "And that's the guy you use to leave my bed for?"

You squeeze back into the booth, press yourself to her as snugly as possible, "I wasn't thinking clearly."

"Clearly," Brittany agrees.

You chance a quick kiss to her neck and her eyes light up. This is the first public display of affection that you've ever initiated in front of Quinn while sober. Brittany takes it a step further as she turns her head and catches your bottom lip in between hers.

She taste like the Diet Coke and chicken Parmesan she'd been munching on. When the tip of her tongue snakes out it really hits you- You're kissing a girl in a public place. In _the_ public place. Everyone you know eats here. Teachers, police officers, your doctor, your parents, your parents friends, unimportant people from school and more importantly the ones who hold your social status in the palm of their hands. The knowledge is intoxicating and you're not sure if it turns you on or terrifies you more. Either way, it doesn't matter because you won't be the one who breaks this kiss. Especially now that Brittany's fisting the bottom of your dress with one hand while her other is threading into your hair to pull you closer.

"_Have they been doing this all night_?"

Brittany breaks away, you follow after her lips, your eyes still closed.

"Mercedes!" She smiles as she leans over you to hug her.

Quinn pats the seat next to her, a pleading look in her eyes, "Join us!"

Just then Sam approaches. He slings his arm around Mercedes shoulders. She snuggles in closer to him. They're cute. But, in the same way that lemurs or other weird things are cute. Or at least that's how Brittany explained it.

"Hey guys. Where's Puck?" He asks, looking over his shoulder.

Quinn pulls Sam into the booth, not taking no for an answer. Mercedes squeezes in with them. It's a tight fit, but Quinn will not be third wheeled again.

"We sent him away. Home boy is a hot mess." You say as you tangle your fingers in with Brittany. Mercedes looks apologetically to Quinn, "Sorry, girl."

Quinn shrugs her shoulders, "I'll find the guy for me...one day."

"Yeah, you will." You voice is strong and sure. Quinn smiles at you. She knows, just as well as you do that you're two of a kind. It's why you spend the better part of your time hating each other but never leaving.

Sam and Mercedes order their dinner. You, Britt and Quinn order desert. Brittany takes up throwing pieces of bread at Sam. But, he's a good sport, unlike Puckerman so he tries to catch them in that huge, southern trout like mouth.

Brittany wraps her leg around yours under the table and you drape one of your hands around her thigh. The five of you stay there until closing time, laughing. And reminiscing,

And being teenagers in love.

Or in Quinn's case being a teenager in love with the fact that you have friends who are in love.

You push aside the voice in the back of your head that says _enjoy this moment because it won't last_, but you take it's words to heart. When summer ends the power plays between you and Quinn will begin again. Sam and Mercedes probably won't last because he's a football player and she's just Weezy from Glee club. You'll probably have to pretend to not know her in the hallways if you find yourself with a partically nasty set of girls. Actually you may pretend to not know Sam in the hallway just because he's so fucking weird and he'll probably be quoting obscure movies. That Letterman's jacket can't cover up everything.

But, you have this now. You have Brittany now and if you don't fuck it up you'll have Brittany then too.

It's enough for you. Which is a miracle in itself. You've always been the girl with no limits. Enough was never enough. More was the magic more. Satisfaction was an unheard of state.

But, tonight?

This booth and these people and your Brittany, _always Brittany_, is all you need.


	4. Thank You, Brenda Clark

It's late and way past my bed time. Was suppose to have this up yesterday. But, alas it's here. Thanks for the continued interest and all the story alerts and your priceless reviews! I'll keep writing, no doubt. Also, it's very late so feel free to point out any glaring typos.

* * *

><p>Your parents are home tonight and you're not sure why. You don't care enough to ask for an explanation, but you know you want them gone. They have a knack for being way too overbearing even if they're not speaking or in the same room as you. You've self-exiled yourself, opting to spend the day holed up in your bedroom then to brave the murky waters of idle chit chat with the folks.<p>

They're not bad people. At least you don't think they are. Sometimes you can't be too sure. They're snobs who raised a snob, who turned out to be a lesbian who fell in love with her best friend. But, they'll never know that. If they did, if they knew what you'd become they would ship you off to straight camp faster than anyone could say Lebanese. That's okay though. You've got one more year in this hell hole and then you're out. You're on a one way flight(or drive) to New York City with Brittany in the passenger seat and you're never coming back. Never looking back. Never, ever going to worry again about hiding who you are for the sake of their comfort.

You know you don't hate them, but you can't say that you love them either. Your family isn't tight like Brittany's. Yours is fluid and in it things bend. Like guidelines, like respect. Brittany would never speak to her parents the way you speak to yours. But, in the same breath, Brittany's parents would never neglect her the way yours does to you. This is not a sob story if anything you're grateful for it. They've made you who you are today. A tough as nails, take no shit from no one chick and your dad's wealth has done amazing things for not only your reputation, but for your cosmetic health as well. For that you're thankful. They are the most perfect roommates anyone could ever ask for. They go and you go and you talk but only when it's absolutely necessary. Hugs and kisses were replaced long ago with cash and credit cards and somewhere along the line your heart stopped breaking because of it.

Amazingly, in the middle of breaking away from your family you stumbled into another one. A weird, dysfunctional multi-ethnic, gay/straight hybrid one. One that two years ago you would've pissed yourself if someone would've said you belonged to. But, in your new family you've found solidarity and hope. You've found acceptance and strength. You were allowed to be yourself to such an extent that your heart was ripped apart and out of it tumbled your love for Brittany. You can't even fathom how to begin to say thank you for that.

* * *

><p>Grabbing your car keys and cellphone you make your way down the stairs as quietly as possible. But, it doesn't make a difference. A note tacked onto the family bulletin board catches your eyes and you quickly devour the short message, "Gone to the Masons, be back around midnight. Love Mom and Dad."<p>

You snort into the emptiness of the house. Your mother hates Gina Mason and your father thinks her husband is sleeping with his housekeeper. But, they are the creme de la creme of this slice of unimportant suburbia so close knits must be kept. Even if half of the night is spent whispering behind each others backs. You pause for a moment, before continuing out the door as you tally up your options. You could call Britt over now and get your cuddle on in the swimming pool for a couple hours. But, if you do that you're going to have to hurry and you've noticed lately that she hates being rushed. You could continue with plan A and go to her house and have some super sneaky silent sexy time in her bedroom and hope none of the eight billion people in her house interrupt. You can go to Quinn's and use her bedroom but then you would have to deal with Quinn and all her depressive ramblings and offensive looks and "You guys stop doing that on my bed!'

Before you know it you're out of the door and in your car, turning a usual ten minute drive to Britt's place into a record 4.5 minute trip. You shoot her a text and moments later she's running down the steps, blond hair bouncing in a messy ponytail. She's wearing lime green shorts, a polka dotted shirt and one of her flouncy matron hats. If that outfit had been on anyone else you would've found the heaviest object possible and chucked it at them. But, on Brittany it's...adorable. She dives into the car, slightly breathless. Sweat already built on her brow from the short trip in the Lima sun. She leans across the seat and places a quick kiss to your cheek, "I didn't think I was going to see you today."

Before you answer, you wrap your hand around her neck and pull her back in for a proper kiss. Your fingers tangle into blond hair and you nip at her bottom lip. She giggles into your mouth, murmurs she missed you. Her tongue darts out and you immediately catch it with a moan. She fists the bottom of your shirt as she pushes herself against you. Brittany's tongue has the faintest taste of root beer and she smells like she's been dancing around in her mother's aromatherapy room. Both of your hands have moved up to cup her face and you place three kisses to her lips before pulling away. Her eyes flutter open at the lost of contact. She's got a dreamy look about her. A small, delirious smile playing on her lips.

You let the pounding in your ears subside before trying to speak, "I missed you."

Her smile broadens, toothy and wide, "Good."

She turns around to face forward and buckles her seat belt. You remember that you have to stop staring at her to crank the car up, so you do, begrudgingly so. You turn up the air conditioner and she puts her face directly in front of the vent. She asks you wear you're taking her and you shrug your shoulders as you pull out of he driveway silently praying Mr. and Mrs. Pierce didn't see you sexually harassing their daughter.

* * *

><p>You've forgotten what roads you've taken to get where you are. But, the cityscape's of Lima have been replaced with rows and rows of green pastures and farms. You know you can't be that far away from home, <em>you know this<em>, but you can't help but feel like you're in an entirely different world. Brittany's curled her fingers into yours over the armrest and she's humming along to the radio. You've been driving for a good hour and your legs have began to cramp. You pull over to the side and she's looks at you questioningly. You smile as you point toward a pasture, "Horses."

As she turns her head, her blue eyes glisten and her mouth pulls into a grin. She's out of the car before you are and she's running down the length of the old wooden gate that's wrapped around the field. You follow slowly behind her. She leans against the gate, mesmerized at the brown and white horse standing a mere four feet away from her. You bump her side as you near her. She doesn't take her eyes off the animal, "I love horses, 'Ana.

"I know." Is all you say as you let your eyes roam over the beast for a moment and then back over to the beauty that is Brittany. You study her face while she studies the horse. A tugging starts in the pit of your stomach as you silently watch her. You suddenly have the urge to touch her and talk to her and make sure she's perfectly content in the world. Because, at least one of you should be.

"Britt?" You start shyly. She must hear the apprehension in your voice because she finally takes her eyes off the horse and looks to you worriedly. She urges you on by grabbing your hand and pulling you down to a sitting position against the gate. You inwardly kick yourself because you know your voice has betrayed you and you can't just laugh off the fear she heard.

"Are you..." You trail off. Your heart begins to pound inside of you and your hands go all clammy. It's like your body is trying to remind you that you _are not good at this. _You inhale deeply and your voice cracks as you try again, "Are you...happy?"

She wasn't expecting that question. You can tell by the well she jerks her head back slightly. As if you've just asked the silliest, simplest question in the world. "Of course I'm happy, Santana. I love horses."

You shake your head, "That's not what I mean..." The setting summer sun ghosts over her arms making it look as if she's glowing. Like some weird kind of angel. You wonder if you look the same. You know you don't. You know Satan can't glow in the same way an angel does. "I mean, are you happy with us? With this?"

She doesn't answer right away like last time, but she does wrap her hand tighter around yours. "I love you." She says scooting in closer. You appreciate the warmth, but she's still not getting it. "But, are you happy with us?"

Brittany pulls away from you she's tired of the cryptic talk, "Why are you asking me this? "

You shrug your shoulders and it's the truth. You honestly don't know. You don't know why you're turning a perfectly nice afternoon with your sorta girlfriend into an awkward mess. Maybe it's got something to do with the deep seated need inside of you to fuck everything up. Your head drops as you begin to fiddle with your fingers, your heart hammering.

"I'm happy, Santana." She tries again. Like if she repeats the words you'll get it.

"Being who I am with Quinn and with Mercedes and even with Puck is easy...You force yourself to lift your head,straighten your shoulders and look her in the eyes, "They're not going to run from me. Or say they hate me. Or, I don't know..." Your voice trails off as the words from the article you read last night force themselves back into your mind. A 21-year-old college student left for dead in a sleepy town in Wyoming. A town not unlike your own.

Brittany rests her head against yours,"What are you thinking about?"

You don't want to tell her. You don't want to fill her with the fear that eats away at your courage. So instead you tell her, "I'm thinking about you. I'm thinking about how I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I'm thinking that yesterday they legalized marriage for us in New York..."

Your voice trails off as the next sentence gets caught in your throat. You force it out quietly, "I'm thinking that one day, I want to marry you." Brittany's eyes widen and she blushes. She nudges your nose with her own and plants a kiss that lingers to your lips. "Really?"

You shake your head like a maniac, "Yeah. So, I just want to be sure you're happy now. So when we're ready, when I'm ready, I'll have you then. Because Britt? Being all out and gay in front of the Glee kids is nothing. They get it. But, I don't know if I'm ready to be me with you in this town."

A sad shadow falls across her face replacing the bliss that was there moments before, "Are you breaking up with me?"

"NO!" You don't mean to scream it at her, but she jumps anyway. You pull her impossibly close to you, "I'm just saying I'm not ready yet and I hope that you can understand because..." You stop short, you don't want to scare her. You side step it the best way you can, "Brittany there are people out there who are exactly the opposite of you."

She scrunches her face, "Black people? Because Santana, I don't know if you noticed but Mercedes is black and she and I are pratically the same person. Sure, I'm more talented, but she's still a pretty decent singer."

You laugh in spite of yourself and a sob gets caught inside of your throat, "No, Brittany, I mean people who aren't as...accepting...as you are. Who don't want other people to be happy because they're miserable. There are people at there who...who do bad things."

Brittany is silent for a moment. There's clarity in her eyes that leaves you breathless. "You mean people who'll hurt us because we love each other?" She doesn't give you a chance to respond as she continues, "Because those people don't matter to me, those people never cross my mind."

She's rendered you speechless and all you can do is curl yourself into her. She tangles her fingers into your hair and places a kiss to your forehead, "You matter to me. I'm way too busy thinking about you all the time to give them any thought."

You giggle as she stretches her legs out straight in front of you and shuffle so your back is leaning against her front. You're grateful no one has driven by because you're not so sure what they would think and more importantly you don't want anyone to ruin this moment. Then suddenly, something hits you, "Britt?"

She's been trailing kisses along your neck. She murmurs a muffled "Hmm?"

"You asked if I was breaking up with you?"

She nips at your skin, "And you said your weren't. No take backs." Her fingers have wormed their way under the hem of your skirt.

"Yeah, I know I did. But, does that mean...Are we together?"

She wraps her arms around your waist and rest her head in the hollow of your neck. "Together?"

You begin to fiddle with your fingertips as you shrug your shoulders noncommittally. A gesture unfitting to the way your pulse is beating inside of your throat. "Are you my girlfriend?"

You feel her face pull into a grin. "It's about time you asked."

* * *

><p>Your fake ID says Brenda Clark and has a picture of a Caucasian woman in her late twenties. It's says that your birthday is December 69th and you were born in Puckzilla, Ohio. Your height is 7'2 and your weight is a whopping 244. Puckerman thought it was funny when he did it and because he got it for you for free you couldn't argue. (You did, but only a little.) Besides it's obvious defects it's never failed you. Not once. As long as you've got the cash or the proper plastic every door imaginable is opened for you in those Podunk town.<p>

And right now your trusty ID lies on the nightstand of the Lima Inn. The only hotel in this entire city that doesn't have a severe case of bed bugs or junkies. Next to it, is yours and Britt's cellphone, both turned off, a bottle of Pinot Noir and Brittany's bra.

And right now you're trying really fucking hard.

You eyes are squeezed shut.

As you try, try, try to keep your grip on this world, but it's leaving you slowly. With every calculated press of nimble fingers to your clit. With every smooth swipe of tongue to the very top of your slit it's leaving you. Every worry, every question, every second guess trickling away like water through your fingers. Or more accurately, hers. The pressure inside of you is building and you know you won't be able to stave of your release for very much longer so you use every muscle in your body to push yourself up and wrap your hands around arms, pulling her up and on top of you.

You kiss her, your tongue licking at hers and the taste of you on her makes your already delirious body whimper on it's own accord. You flip her over and she pushes her thigh between yours and you bite back your orgasm. In one smooth motion you shed her of her underwear, the last piece of fabric between the two of you. She pushes her center against your stomach as you latch onto a nipple, your teeth pulling at the soft flesh. Your hands squeezing tightly onto both of her thighs, her muscles rippling. She's so wet you can smell her and she's leaving trails of herself against your abdomen. You slide your hands up her thighs to where her legs begin and rub small circles into her skin. Your so close to where she needs you to be but you wait to move any further. You move your mouth to her neck and you you lick up to her ear, sucking on her lobe. She moans and moans and moans and you know you should tell her to be quieter but the sounds she's making turns you on in a way you can't begin to explain. You dive back into her mouth, lick at her tongue, draw out the taste again and again. She takes the initiative and wraps her hand around one of yours and presses it against her clit. Your laugh is husky in her ear. She shivers a response. You smooth your palm against her and she cants her hips upward.

"Wrap you legs around me." Your voice is low and needy. She obeys immediately as she locks her legs tightly around your waist. You coat your hand in her fluids, rub circles against her clit. Out comes another whimper, another urgent grind against your hand. You spread her folds and gently urge a finger inside of her. It's slips in easily. She's so ready, she swallows it up to your knuckle. You slide in another and flex your fingers to the side. She pushes her head against the pillows as she murmurs how good it feels. You pull out your fingers and re-enter her with a third one for good measure. You set a slow pace, but she's still not going to last long. You feel the way her legs quake and her stomach tightens. Her breathing has turned to gasps as you slide your fingers in and out of her. She pulls your lips down to hers again. Kissing you deep and hard and as you thrust back inside of her, her body curves into yours and off the bed and she comes with a groan inside of your mouth. You rub her clit as she comes down, never breaking the clinch she has around your waist. You collapse onto her body. You use your position to an advantage to add another hickey to her already bruised neck. Her legs go slack around you and she rolls you back onto your back.

"I wasn't done with you." Her voice is breathless and you want to tell her to wait a second, but her head is between your legs before you can stop her and you're falling inside of yourself again.

When you come, you feel it throughout your entire body. It's like a burst of the smoothest lighting going off in every one of your limbs. You push yourself against her mouth as she moans and pulls you in closer. She takes her mouth off your clit and you fall back onto the bed with a groan as she licks your folds, biting slightly at your skin. You tug at her arms to urge her back up to you. Your lips connect in a slow kiss, that's all tongue and lust and love and you don't ever want to leave this bed.

You pull your lips away from hers and hold her face between your two hands. She smiles down at you her eyes a deep blue. She dips her head and kisses you again, sucking on your bottom lip. Your wrap yours arms around her neck and pull her flesh against your body, "I love you Brittany."


End file.
